


Here, in the Warm Parts

by foxgloves112



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Cock Warming, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17031648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxgloves112/pseuds/foxgloves112
Summary: Jongdae hates the Saskatchewan winter, but it has its upsides.





	Here, in the Warm Parts

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer/warning: i've done my best to write a pov character with chronic illness (specifically chronic fatigue, me/cfs) without focusing too much on the illness aspect, but as someone who isn't chronically ill myself, i know it isn't going to be perfect. i just feel very strongly about the importance of representation, and it's rare to see fic about disability that isn't tragedy porn. that said, i'm open to criticism from anyone who feels i've gotten something wrong!

When Jongdae wakes up, his head is clear and his joints are fine and he feels, for the first time in weeks or months or maybe longer, almost well-rested.

He looks around the room, taking stock of things groggily. Sleepy winter sunlight trickles in through the window, colors the room a dim grey, and Jongdae can’t tell what time it’s supposed to be, what day it is—just knows that the other side of the bed is empty, the blankets and sheets all in a twisted heap. He pushes himself up from his nest of pillows just enough to catch a glimpse of the clock on the other side of the bed. It’s 11:36. Possibly a Tuesday. Won’t know if the last part is true until he finds his phone. If it _is_ Tuesday, he has three days to edit his next YouTube video; if not, possibly fewer.

It’s a Good Day, though, Tuesday or not. When he stretches, even the stiffness in his back is milder than usual. And it’s not perfect, no, but it’s still a nice change, whether or not it lasts. Nice enough that he lets out a satisfied sigh before getting out of bed.

He searches his side of the bed, the nightstand, the floor, and finds no sign of his phone. Nothing on Junmyeon’s side, either. After giving up and deciding to make the bed, Jongdae thinks he has a vague memory of leaving his phone in the living room, maybe. He’s fairly sure that was last night. His lack of certainty in things like this is frustrating, even now, even on a Good Day. But he still has plenty of energy after straightening all the bedding and fluffing the pillows, and that’s enough to help quash the incoming wave of pessimism.

He makes his way to the bathroom, grimacing at the feeling of ice-cold floor under his bare feet. Moments like this make him homesick for Korea, for their old apartment in Daegu, warm even in snowy winter. He pretends he doesn’t remember how unbearable summers are there. Easier now to focus on the miserable Saskatchewan winter, the righteous unfairness of its existence.

On the bathroom mirror there’s a blue post-it note with a scribbled _Half day today!! See you soon!!_ and a little lopsided heart. It makes Jongdae smile as he plucks it from the mirror and folds it carefully in half to put in the pocket of his pajama bottoms, like always. There’s a whole collection of these in a shoebox back in the bedroom, one for every day that Jongdae isn’t awake before Junmyeon leaves for work. Sometimes it’s a reminder to take his medication, sometimes an embarrassing and heartfelt confession of love, sometimes a _Text me what you want me to pick up for dinner_. Always sweet, always appreciated. It makes Jongdae less bothered by the towel carelessly dropped on the floor, or the mess left from Junmyeon’s morning shave.

His phone is in the living room after all. Plugged into the wall charger, even. And oh, that’s right, he was napping on the couch before Junmyeon dragged him to bed. He remembers now—remembers feeling foggy and sore and irritable, snapping at his boyfriend for waking him up, then both of them apologizing. Even remembers leaving his phone behind because he had no intention of doing anything but sleep for a long time, so there was no reason to take it with him.

Unplugging the phone from its charger, Jongdae checks the date. Wednesday.

It’s fine. Two days is plenty.

He gets fruit and yogurt from the kitchen and settles down on the couch, where he wraps himself up in a knitted blanket that Jongin made as a going-away present. It’s a little endearingly lumpy. Jongdae covers as much of his body with it as he can before grabbing his laptop.

Junmyeon shows up before Jongdae can get through even one episode of _The Great British Bake Off_. He announces his presence with a singsong “Honey, I’m home!” that makes Jongdae snort.

“Hey,” Jongdae calls back, taking out his earbuds and pausing the show. “How was work?”

“Average. Unspectacular. Boring as shit, honestly,” says Junmyeon. There’s a rustling, then the hallway door opens and closes. “How long have you been up?”

“’Bout an hour.”

“Eaten yet?”

“Kind of.” Jongdae adds, “If you’re making lunch, I can help. Make sure it’s edible for once.” They both know he doesn’t mean it; Junmyeon’s cooking has improved by leaps and bounds in the past year. He can even make things without Jongdae’s supervision now, which is nothing short of a miracle. The guy could screw up boiling water when the two of them first met.

Junmyeon chuckles. “Thanks for your generosity.” He comes into view finally, appearing in the open doorway with a little smile on his lips. “So how are you feeling?”

“Good,” says Jongdae. “I made the bed and had a few abstract thoughts about taking a walk.”

“Yeah?” Junmyeon raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I can go with you, if you’re really up for it.”

“Nah, don’t wanna push my luck.” Jongdae drums his fingers over his keyboard, lightly enough not to press anything down. “I figure I should save those spoons for other stuff anyway.”

“Sure,” says Junmyeon. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

They head to the kitchen together, where a brief bickering match ensues over whose mother’s soup recipe they should follow. Then a victorious Jongdae chops vegetables while Junmyeon, wilting in defeat, starts soaking the rice.

“I’ve been thinking,” Junmyeon starts, then pauses.

“Care to share with the class?”

“I’m not bringing up the service dog argument again. I know you don’t want one, and I get why. _But_.” Junmyeon takes a deep breath. “An emotional support animal might be worth looking into.”

It takes a second for Jongdae to realize why Junmyeon would bring this up now, out of the blue. He has a tendency to save conversations like this for Good Days, when Jongdae has the energy for them and ability to articulate himself. It must mean he anticipates an argument. And sure enough, when Jongdae glances over he finds Junmyeon watching him nervously, waiting for a response.

Jongdae thinks it over for a brief moment, then shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “That could be okay.”

Junmyeon looks skeptical. “Really?”

“As long as you don’t mind cleaning up its shit, yeah.” At Junmyeon’s persistent look of doubt, Jongdae sighs and stills his knife. “What, do you _want_ me to tell you to fuck off? I think a pet would be nice. Just remind me to ask Dr. Zhang about it.”

“I can do that.”

Jongdae hums thoughtfully, resuming his careful slicing. “A cat might be a good idea,” he says. “They’re cuddly, and you don’t have to take them for walks.”

“True,” says Junmyeon. “But the walking isn’t an issue. I could do that part.”

Laughing, Jongdae says, “Just admit you want a dog, Junmyeonnie.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to limit your options—”

They finish cooking their food together, then eat in companionable silence at the table. Jongdae dismisses Junmyeon’s offer to clean up. Junmyeon relents easily, because a busy Jongdae is a happy Jongdae, and because Junmyeon is shit at washing dishes properly.

By the time Jongdae’s finished in the kitchen, Junmyeon’s restarted the _Bake Off_ episode Jongdae was on, playing it on the living room TV. They get comfortable on the couch, lumpy knit blanket covering both of them.

“We should make our own bread,” says Junmyeon. He’s staring at the screen, entranced, like the whole phenomenon of baking is some kind of inconceivable miracle to him. “We should make _this_ bread,” he adds, awed.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jongdae says dryly.

He has an arm around Junmyeon, his head resting on a shoulder. One nice thing about the winter, Jongdae supposes, is that Junmyeon is always snuggled up in a hoodie—or _bunny hug_ , as they say in Saskatchewan. Junmyeon’s refused to refer to them as anything else since he discovered that term. Regardless, his soft, thick clothes make him even nicer to cuddle with than usual, and the bright pink of the one he’s wearing now is sweet and delicate. Jongdae is decidedly a fan.

An idea occurs to him. He squeezes Junmyeon’s waist, then begins, “Hey, after the episode’s over, do—”

“Shh, wait, I wanna hear what the judges say.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, but says nothing. He wants to see the results, too, admittedly.

After the scores come in for the technical round, Junmyeon sighs disappointedly. Or maybe wistfully. Hard to tell. “Anyway, what were you saying?” he asks, patting Jongdae’s thigh.

“I dunno anything about bread-bread, but we could make gingerbread,” says Jongdae. “In the spirit of the season. Need molasses, though.”

“Hm.” Junmyeon turns and gives him a sheepish look. He shifts, tucking the edge of the blanket under him. “Would you be mad if I said I don’t really want to go anywhere now?”

“Yes,” says Jongdae. “Furious.” He gives Junmyeon a soft peck on the lips and laughs. “It’s fine.”

Junmyeon blinks, his lips puckered stupidly from trying to follow the kiss. A terribly handsome face prone to making the most ridiculous expressions.

They finish the episode, then watch another, and finally Jongdae’s forced to turn the TV off, declaring, “Alright, that’s enough shitty puns.”

“They weren’t that bad,” Junmyeon protests.

“The ones the hosts do are cute,” says Jongdae. “Yours are just embarrassing.”

Junmyeon sniffs. “I think you like them,” he says, “you just don’t want to admit it.”

“I really don’t,” says Jongdae. “But lucky for you, I love you in spite of them.”

“Very lucky,” Junmyeon agrees, and now it’s him going in for a kiss.

After they separate, Jongdae says, “You know I wouldn’t want a dog I can’t take care of, Junmyeon.”

“But I could—”

“I know you could, and I’m saying I don’t want you to,” Jongdae interrupts. “It’s easier if we get something that doesn’t have to be walked. Like a cat. Or rabbits, even.”

“Rabbits are too high-maintenance,” says Junmyeon.

“Mm, I’ve noticed.”

Junmyeon purses his lips. The comparison between him and a rabbit has been made so many times it doesn’t even need explanation. And while he’s usually fine with being compared to something cute, will even play up the cuteness himself, he apparently doesn’t appreciate being called _difficult_ , even though he is a bit. Vain and embarrassing and easily frustrated, and petty, and sometimes callous without meaning to be. Messy, too, always and forever. And Jongdae doesn’t mind these things, because perfect people are insufferable. He likes to think the two of them are imperfect in compatible ways. They’ve grown into routines around each other’s flaws, too, like compensation or compromise, or maybe both.

“Anyway, the internet loves cats,” says Jongdae. He cuddles up closer to Junmyeon, sinking into him. “It’ll help endear me to my viewers.”

The laugh Junmyeon lets out turns into a cough. “I really don’t think you need help with that, Jongdae. I’ve seen the comments people leave.” His voice turns high and sugary. “ _Wow, oppa, you’re so handsome._ ”

A sound of disgust is choked off in Jongdae’s throat. He winces, burying his face in Junmyeon’s shoulder, in the soft fabric of his hoodie. “God,” he groans, “don’t remind me.”

Junmyeon snickers. “Speaking of, doesn’t _oppa_ have a video to edit?”

“Don’t be gross. But yeah, I do.” Jongdae sighs as he pulls away. “Got a hot date with Final Cut Pro tonight.”

“Want me to leave you alone so you can get started on it?”

“Honestly? Not really,” says Jongdae. His eyes flick down to Junmyeon’s mouth. He murmurs, “Rather just have a hot date with my boyfriend instead.”

Looking inordinately pleased by that answer, Junmyeon grins, opens his mouth to say something, but just breathes out a laugh before leaning in to kiss Jongdae once again, slower this time. Lingering. He breaks away, brushes their noses together in a maddeningly cute way, and presses his forehead to Jongdae’s.

“You can absolutely have that,” Junmyeon says softly.

“Just to be clear, Junmyeon,” Jongdae says, interrupting the tender moment, “I want us to fuck.”

Junmyeon doesn’t say anything to that, just tilts his head and kisses Jongdae over and over, hums out the smallest noise when Jongdae sucks lightly at his bottom lip. Chapped, because Junmyeon is monstrously bad at taking care of himself.

“Okay,” Junmyeon says eventually. “What do you want?”

“Your cock.”

“That’s it?”

“Wanna sit on it,” says Jongdae, fingers catching in the hoodie. “Want you to make me come without getting yourself off, Junmyeonnie.”

He can hear Junmyeon breathe in the silence, in and out, can feel Junmyeon’s thumb stroking his arm. After a moment, he hears, “You _are_ in a good mood,” and Junmyeon’s smiling, brightly amused.

“I am,” says Jongdae. “So help make it an even better one, yeah?”

Junmyeon moves to get up, but Jongdae holds out an arm to stop him. They aren’t relocating to the bedroom; Jongdae has no interest in just lying down and getting fucked. He wants it here, on the couch or armchair, where it’s easier for him to sit comfortably on Junmyeon’s cock.

He goes to the bedroom himself to get lube and toys, and comes back to find Junmyeon waiting patiently, expectantly, smiling a smile at Jongdae that makes his beautiful face look slightly stupid again. Jongdae’s heart swells in a way that almost makes him laugh reflexively.

“Alright, pants off, top on,” Jongdae instructs, dropping the things in his hand on the couch cushion so he can strip. “Want you as warm and cuddly as possible.”

“You’ll get my bunny hug dirty,” says Junmyeon, frowning.

“I haven’t been fucked in months, and you’re worried about me coming on your sweatshirt?” Jongdae laughs disbelievingly. “And you know, you were such a slob when we started dating that jizz is probably the _least_ disgusting thing that’s been on your clothes.”

“Point taken,” says Junmyeon, having the decency to go pink with embarrassment.

They both undress halfway, then Junmyeon sits back down on the couch, leaving Jongdae to straddle him. Before Jongdae can even start touching him in earnest, Junmyeon picks up the blanket from beside him, shakes it out a bit, and pulls it up over Jongdae’s shoulders, draping it over his back.

“Ah, there you go,” Jongdae says fondly, “stealing my goddamn heart again.” He plants a kiss on Junmyeon’s cheek, right next to his mouth, then takes hold of his flaccid cock to fit a ring around the base.

It’s so incredibly easy to get Junmyeon worked up. Only takes a few soft touches, obscene whispers in his ear, the slightest brush of teeth to his neck, and he’s hard and shivering. He obediently takes the lube Jongdae passes to him, then pushes slick fingers inside him, groans as Jongdae bites at his throat. In turn, Jongdae closes his eyes, letting out a pleased hum at the familiarity of the fingers thrusting into him.

“God, Jongdae,” Junmyeon breathes, chest heaving and nails digging into Jongdae’s skin, though not hard enough to sting; gentle, almost. He lets out a weak and shuddering _ah_ when Jongdae rubs their cocks together, gripping just a little harder, a little less gently.

For Jongdae, kissing into Junmyeon’s open mouth with fervent murmurs of _yeah, yeah, oh fuck, yes_ feels like coming home. He can see, even with his eyes closed, the helpless furrow of Junmyeon’s brow, the way his body tenses with restraint. His hips start bucking up to meet Jongdae’s, as if by instinct, until he stops, arched against him, firm hands stilling Jongdae as well.

“How do you want it?” Junmyeon asks. “Like this?”

“Nah,” says Jongdae. “It’s more comfortable if I turn around.” He huffs out a laugh. “Plus, I won’t come on your _fucking_ bunny hug.”

“It doesn’t matter if you do. I can—”

“You can wash it, I know. Just like how you can take care of a dog.” Jongdae kisses him. “Don’t be such a doormat, babe.”

Junmyeon lets out a long-suffering sigh as Jongdae re-situates himself, turning around to sit just between Junmyeon’s legs, back to front. He’s had to shed the blanket, exposing himself to the cool air of the room, and while it’s far from ideal he doesn’t know what the process of cleaning semen from thick yarn looks like—isn’t keen on finding out, either.

He feels the press of Junmyeon’s hardness on his backside, only a shirt separating them. Then there’s Junmyeon’s hand, knuckles brushing against Jongdae’s tailbone as he rolls on a condom. Before Jongdae can push himself up with his hands, he’s grabbed by the thighs and pulled up onto Junmyeon’s lap.

“Here,” says Junmyeon, using his grip to spread Jongdae’s legs to either side of his own. “Good?”

“Mm.” Jongdae braces himself and lifts his hips. Junmyeon’s hands move, guiding Jongdae as he sinks down onto his cock, and _oh_. “Yeah. Good.”

He’s pulled back into the warmth of Junmyeon’s chest, which is soft but secure, sturdy when it doesn’t seem like it should be. He leans back and lets himself be supported, held, loved.

Jongdae’s spread-open legs have let Junmyeon get deep inside him, and the cock ring will keep him there, hard and ready. To Jongdae, sex is better like this: the ease, the intimacy, the gentle yet exploratory skim of Junmyeon’s hands over every part of him. Fucking is loud and fast and exhausting, all sweat and sore muscles, and the dissatisfaction of having his partner do most of the work. But this—this lasts for so long, the feeling of Junmyeon inside him, this moment they have together. Good, too, when it’s the other way around, Junmyeon’s lips wrapped around Jongdae’s cock until his jaw gets achingly sore.

(Better than good, really, with how Junmyeon flushes with arousal at every bit of praise Jongdae feeds him, how his eyes flutter shut when his hair is lightly tugged, how he asked once—stuttering—for Jongdae to slap him with his cock, and came in his own hand with a moan afterward. But there’s a time and a place for Junmyeon to be gleefully wrecked, and it’s not now, not when it’s been so long since Jongdae was properly touched.)

Hands make their way under Jongdae’s shirt and up along his front, fingers skating over his abdomen, his chest, pinching and tweaking his nipples. One moves back down to curl around Jongdae’s cock in a loose fist, thumb swiping over the tip in a touch that’s barely anything. Jongdae takes hold of the hand on his cock, squeezing encouragingly. He hears Junmyeon chuckle behind him, feels lips press against the base of his neck. Junmyeon’s grip tightens but doesn’t move.

“You know, one of these days,” says Jongdae, “you’re gonna have to make a cameo in one of my videos. People wanna see what you look like. Oh, do that again,” he adds when Junmyeon lightly scratches his chest. He sighs. “Scratching an itch I didn’t know I had, fuck.”

“Why would they wanna see me?” asks Junmyeon. “What have you told them?”

“That you’re pretty.” Jongdae laughs. “Like a fucking movie star.”

“Pretty,” Junmyeon echoes skeptically.

“What, does that threaten your masculinity? Men can be pretty.”

“Sure,” says Junmyeon, “but you’ve never called me that. Am I really pretty?”

Jongdae lets go of his preemptive annoyance, saying gently, “So pretty, Junmyeon.” He touches Junmyeon’s wrist, hooks fingers under the elastic of his sleeve. “Prettier than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Would you still say that if I wasn’t inside you?”

“Nope,” says Jongdae. “You’d be a nightmare if I said a single nice thing about you outside of sex. Ego would get so big it’d fucking burst.”

“Don’t I deserve to have a big ego, though?” A thumb rubs teasing circles around Jongdae’s nipple. “Aren’t I the prettiest person you’ve ever seen?”

In response, Jongdae just clenches around Junmyeon’s cock, drawing another breath of laughter from him.

They talk for a while, less hostilely, about Jongdae’s videos and Junmyeon’s work at the architecture firm, about a wedding they’re meant to go to next month, if Jongdae’s up for traveling. They talk about more serious things, until Junmyeon seems to realize Jongdae’s responding less, and an apology comes in the form of a kiss on Jongdae’s nape and an arm wrapping around his middle, holding him close. Jongdae leans back to rest his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek to silently convey that all is forgiven.

By the time Jongdae’s ready to stop, Junmyeon’s gone soft, despite their best efforts. Still, his hand moves quickly over Jongdae’s cock, determinedly, and his strained _Come for me_ and _Come on, be a good boy, be good for me_ makes Jongdae’s skin prickle hotly. He lets himself fuck shallowly into Junmyeon’s hand until he comes.

When he’s coming down from his climax, panting, he says disbelievingly, “Good boy?”

“Um,” says Junmyeon, awkward as ever and hard once again.

“Come on,” says Jongdae. “Such a good boy I’m gonna let you fuck my thighs.”

And he does, and Junmyeon mumbles an embarrassed “Sorry,” which makes Jongdae laugh delightedly.

“I can be a good boy for you, Junmyeon,” Jongdae says, “but only ’cause you’re so good for me.”

Junmyeon, still flushed red, gives Jongdae a fond smile and touches his cheek gently.

They pull their clothes back on and order takeout. And Jongdae should really get to work, because two days isn’t much to work with, but he has Junmyeon’s head in his lap and hair under his fingers and the curry they ordered will be here soon. And really, he isn’t in much of a hurry, considering.

**Author's Note:**

> the bunny hug thing is true btw and it's the cutest thing in the whole world  
> also jongdae is a lifestyle vlogger in my mind, but thanks to death of the author he can be anything you imagine him to be
> 
> editing this after the fact because i just realized there's a line that might need explanation. if the part about spoons was confusing to you, please look up spoon theory! it's used commonly among people with a whole range of disabilities
> 
> i'm foxglove0408 on twitter. come say hi if you want~


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